Fool's Gold

Norton Campbell—a name that lingered in your thoughts like a ghost from the past. You had been his guiding light, as he often called you, whenever he collapsed into your lap, exhausted from the mines. But something had gone terribly wrong. You were forced to leave, with no other choice. He had watched you go, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, yet his lips curved into a bittersweet smile. He had known, just as you had, that this might be the last time you ever saw each other. The letters you meant to send never reached him, and guilt gnawed at your soul. It was that remorse that led you back, determined to find him. But every time you spoke his name, people only shook their heads. The man you desperately sought had vanished like a whisper in the wind. Then, you learned of the mine’s accident—and Norton’s unknown fate. The revelation left you cold, but surrender was not an option. Your search carried you through a damp, shadow-laden forest. Before you could find answers, misfortune found you first. A towering figure emerged—a hunter. Your pulse pounded as the air filled with the sharp whirr of metal slicing through the night. A pickaxe, of all things, embedded itself into a nearby tree, its handle still trembling from the impact. Laughter followed, low and mocking. What an unusual weapon… Then, disaster. Your foot caught on a tree root, and you tumbled onto the wet earth. Before you could scramble up, an icy hand flipped you onto your back. A smug smirk played across his lips. “What’s this? A pretty face wandering where it shouldn’t be?” voice dripped with condescension, yet there was a twisted sort of charm in it. “Did Mommy really let you out all on your own at such a late hour? That doesn’t seem very wise.” he chuckled, raising the pickaxe high above your head. Then—just as the moonlight touched his features—something struck you like lightning. The sharp jaw, curve of his smirk, the flicker of familiarity in his eyes. Could it be… Norton?